


the collector

by blue_slate



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Porn, F/F, Porn With Plot, Spicy times, abby wants to nail ellie to the wall, ellie wants to be nailed, it's a two-parter lads, not beta'd we die like women, ur welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:40:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25041016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_slate/pseuds/blue_slate
Summary: as an artist, ellie prides herself on her dozens of pieces, most of which have been sold to the wealthy. however, there is one piece she refuses to sell. abby anderson, a gorgeous art collector, comes with an offer. ellie sinks lower and lower to the blazing inferno of the art collector.ORthe "cocky art collector bangs artist and artist likes it too much" fic
Relationships: Abby/Ellie (The Last of Us)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 208





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

  * For [killingcve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/killingcve/gifts).



> unbeta'd. enjoy, scoundrels. second part will be here soon.

Ellie certainly wasn’t expecting anyone to be in the art gallery. Especially not at this late of an hour. 

When Dina said there was something important for her at the gallery, Ellie thought she meant a new shipment of paints or charcoal had come in. Not a  _ person.  _

Ellie steps into her wing of Dina’s art gallery. Her paintings are nailed to the wall and illuminated by soft lights that give off the perfect vibe. 

And staring at Ellie’s largest and favorite work is a woman, dressed in a dark wine suit that clings to obvious muscle contained in fabric. Ellie swallows, her throat dry as she drinks in the sight of the woman, who has her hands tucked into her pockets and her hair in a fashionable braid, the end touching the middle of her back. 

“Your art is… indescribable,” the woman says, and Ellie is jolted from her thoughts. The woman looks over her shoulder, and Ellie’s voice is stolen from her chest once more. “You must be Miss Williams, the artist?” 

“Ellie is fine,” Ellie says, pulling her hands from the pocket of her hoodie. She feels severely underdressed compared to this goddess of a woman before her, but Ellie hadn’t known that she would be talking to someone at nearly midnight. Ellie takes the first step forward, extending her hand. “You are…?” 

The woman pulls her hand out of her pocket, and Ellie notices the details of the leather glove encasing it. “Abigail Anderson.” 

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Anderson,” Ellie says, wondering how the leather can feel so soft yet so rough at the same time. 

“Please, call me Abby,” Abby says, drawing her hand back. She pulls the other one out of her pocket, and Ellie notices how they’re both gloved. Must be a collector thing. Abby’s head tilts back to admire the wall length painting, a hint of a smile on her cheeks. “I’ve been staring at this for minutes, trying to figure it out.” 

The painting is a mix of Ellie’s two chosen mediums— oil and charcoal. While most are only one, Ellie had chosen to use both for her largest piece. On the four separate canvases that make up the entire piece, each other dotted in splotches oil and charcoal, coming together to make the image of two leaves and a moth. Half the moth is drawn and smudged in charcoal, while the other half is painted in brilliant and rich shades of oil paint. 

Abby is staring at it like it’s the Mona Lisa, and Ellie suddenly feels very critiqued. This is an art collector she’s standing next to— a very obviously rich one, if the golden watch and necklaces are any indication. 

Ellie looks at her artwork fondly, aptly named  _ Revelabo _ — the latin word for expose. She might come to hate some of her older works— as all artists do— but this piece will always be her favorite. The connection she has to it makes it so profoundly important. 

“The use of charcoal smudging and impasto makes this so deeply rich,” Abby says quietly, not even disturbing the silence of the art gallery. “It’s beyond beautiful. More so than anything I have in my collection.” 

The compliment burns down Ellie’s spine. “Coming from a woman as eloquent as you, it’s a high praise.” 

Abby cracks a smirk. “Eloquence is demanded in this line of business, especially when negotiating with more difficult artists.” 

“I can imagine. Some that I’ve met have, pardon my language, a stick up their ass for no reason,” Ellie says, and the laugh that comes from Abby is absolute bliss to Ellie’s ears. It’s warm and it resonates in Ellie’s chest. 

“So it seems, but you might just be the most pleasant one I’ve met so far,” Abby remarks, her hand slipping into the pocket of her vest to produce a pocket watch.  _ Of course she has a pocket watch, she’s rich,  _ Ellie thinks. Abby tucks it away. “How much for this piece?” 

Ellie blinks, then shakes her head. “None. It’s not for sale.” 

Abby’s thick manicured brow arches with interest. “Oh? Are you sure? I’m willing to pay any price for such an astounding piece of artwork.” 

Any intention that this woman might’ve had is soured by the thought of her throwing money around for priceless (in Ellie’s eyes) artwork. Ellie crosses her arms. “I’m sure. Everything else in this wing is for sale, but not this one. This one never has been and never will be for sale.” 

The art collector’s lips purse together in thought, and then she nods her head. “I understand. I’ve searched long for a new work of art to hang on my wall, and this was the perfect one. Now, it seems that space on my wall is destined to stay empty.” 

Interesting. Ellie was convinced Abby would move onto another artist more willing to fill their pockets, but Abby secedes easily. 

“It’s important to me,” Ellie explains, though she has no reason or motivation to explain herself to the opulent art collector. 

“Clearly, or else you wouldn’t be so adamant,” Abby says. She slides her hands into her suit, and takes a few steps back. There’s a flicker of hope in her eyes, mixed with something Ellie would call passion. “Although, I do hope you’ll change your mind. I have a history of being…” Abby’s eyes dip down Ellie before coming back up. She drawls out, slowly, “Persuasive.” 

Ellie swallows tightly, watching as Abby turns around and walks away, the heels of her shined shoes clicking on the stone floors of the art gallery. Ellie doesn’t even realize she’s not breathing until Abby steps out of her wing of the gallery, and she inhales deeply. 

She needs to talk to Dina. Yell, more like. 

As Ellie sweeps through the other exit of the gallery, the thought of Abby and her wine-laced words don’t leave her mind. 

~~~~~

Ellie pulls at the collar of her shirt, only for her hand to be slapped away by Dina as the latter approaches holding two flutes of champagne in one hand. 

“Stop touching your outfit. I ironed your shirt, and I’m not letting all of that hard work go to waste,” Dina reprimands with a point of her finger, before tugging on Ellie’s crisp lavender tie and adjusting the lapels of her blazer. Dina shifts to stand beside Ellie, sipping on her champagne. “Also, you should be socializing. Stop hiding back here like you always do. Go out there and sell your art!” 

Today is another art exhibition, the end of a deadline that Ellie’s been pushed under for weeks. Around the room are new pieces of art to replace the old, all waiting to be sold. Some are going for only a few hundred (smaller pieces), while others are well into the thousands range. All around are people, dressed in their finest clothes and admiring the many canvases hung about the room. 

Ellie’s eyes drift to the permanent centerpiece.  _ Revelabo _ shines brighter than any other piece in the room, and Ellie has always liked that. A sign placed on a podium in front of the artwork says in bold,  _ NOT FOR SALE _ . The idea that the most beautiful piece of all cannot be bought or owned by another has always struck deep within Ellie. It makes her feel possessive, almost. 

Maybe that’s a bad emotion to have, but Ellie has it anyway. 

“Fine, I’ll go socialize with the rich people,” Ellie mutters, downing the entire flute of champagne in one go. Dina lets out a laugh before taking the empty glass and pushing Ellie away. 

As Ellie moves along her own exhibition, she spots little red dots on a majority of her paintings. No doubt that a hefty amount will go to Dina, as she’s the sponsor  _ and _ curator of this exhibit, but it’s nice to know that Ellie’s work isn’t going to waste. These paintings will be going to homes, and Ellie is happy about that. 

“Miss Williams,” A passing elderly man approaches her. “Your art is beautiful. I simply cannot wait for it to be in my house.” 

“Thank you kindly, sir, for supporting my art,” Ellie says, the sentence slipping out of her mouth without any true thought behind it. Ellie’s become accustomed to these sort of compliments, and now has ready replies in her head. She doesn’t even have to think about it much anymore. 

Regardless, the elderly man seems pleased, and goes on with his day. 

Ellie spots Jesse and Joel in the corner of the room, talking over drinks served at the bar. Immediately, Ellie heads toward them. If there’s anybody she can count on, it’s them. 

“Hey, guys,” Ellie says, and they both turn to look at her. 

“There’s the superstar of the hour,” Jesse says. He raises his drink to her in toast. “Congratulations on another exhibition, Ellie. You outdid yourself this time.” 

“Thanks, Jesse,” Ellie smiles gratefully. “Anything caught your eye?” 

“That I can afford? One or two, but I might run my pockets dry if I bought everything I loved here,” Jesse remarks, and Ellie shakes his head. She does personal pieces for him, anyway. Free of charge, only for her closest of friends and family. Jesse steps away for Ellie and Joel. 

“Hey, kiddo,” Joel says, and opens his arms. Ellie dives in for the hug, relishing in the soft warmth. 

When she pulls away, she yanks at his green tie. “Look at you, all dressed up. Didn’t know you had it in, old man.” 

“Oh,  _ ha ha, _ ” Joel rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. He glances around, nothing but pride in his eyes. “This is amazing, Ellie. Look at all of these  _ people,  _ damn.” 

Ellie laughs, looking fondly at Joel. He’s always so shocked and surprised by the turnout of people— Ellie is too— but he looks so proud he could cry. He hugs Ellie tightly again, and kisses her forehead gently. 

“Keep shooting for the moon, kiddo,” Joel says, patting her arm before walking away to go talk to Tommy and Maria, who are perusing the artworks. 

Ellie sighs happily. Today has turned out to be a fantastic day so far. 

Her eyes drift to the entrance of the exhibit, and her pulse quickens. 

Walking in without a care in the world is Abby Anderson, the elegant art collector, dressed in a heather grey suit with a subtle plaid pattern, and in place of a button down, she wears a black turtleneck, with a thin gold chain around the neck. Paired with the black leather gloves and a pair of round glasses that accentuate her sharp jawline, Abby looks absolutely jaw-dropping. 

It’s unfair, how easily she pulls it off. Her braid is just as smooth and ornate as it was the last time Ellie saw Abby, just a few weeks ago. Briefly, Ellie wonders if she’s here to try and purchase  _ Revelabo _ again. 

Abby wanders into the exhibition, her face schooled into one of emotionless stone as she peers at the many pieces of art hung on the wall. Though she’s not directly looking at Ellie, Ellie feels very judged under the critical eye of the gorgeous art collector. 

And just as Ellie is about to go hide elsewhere, Abby looks over her shoulder, and their gazes lock. Abby turns and smoothes the fabric of her black turtleneck, and Ellie feels impossibly drawn to Abby, like there’s a magnet in those dark eyes reeling her in. 

Ellie doesn’t even realize she’s walking until Abby meets her halfway. 

“Couldn’t resist, huh?” Ellie says, an edge to her voice that Abby  _ thankfully _ doesn’t take to heart, if her laugh is any suggestion. 

“No, I suppose not,” Abby says, looking about the exhibition. Then, she looks back down at Ellie— being quite a few inches taller, thanks to the smooth leather chelsea boots she’s wearing. “This exhibition is one of the finest I’ve been to. The displaying of the artwork is fantastic, and the art itself is… indescribable.” 

Ellie is thrown back to when they first met each other, and her face burns with a blush that reaches the tips of her ears. “Thank you. Most of the work goes to Dina, the curator. She pushed me to get all of this done.” 

Abby cocks a brow. “Really? I’ve only talked to the curator of this gallery in passing— to organize my visit— but I’ll be sure to give her the thanks she deserves.” 

Everything about Abby screams high class and high society, and Ellie is stuck to it like glue. The gold of Abby’s necklace shines in the lighting, and Ellie is almost tempted to touch it. 

“I hope you enjoy the rest of the exhibition. We have a bar and an appetizers table, if you’re hungry,” Ellie says, pointing to both places respectively, but it seems fruitless; Abby’s eyes don’t leave her frame. 

“Hm, I’ll take you up on the bar,” Abby says. In a move that causes Ellie to freeze up, Abby’s hand comes up to fix her tie, which had apparently become crooked. She’s acutely aware of the warmth that emanates through the glove, touching her tie and even smoothing her pressed button down, getting rid of any wrinkles. Abby’s eyes show a tinge of desire, but for what? Abby whispers, her voice husky and rough, “However, there’s only one thing I’m hungry for, at this moment.” 

The innuendo doesn’t go over Ellie’s head. Rather, it hits her in the face like a shovel. 

She nearly chokes, leaving Abby looking quite satisfied. The collector walks away with a smirk on her face, and Ellie has to remember how to breathe. 

It’s only later, once the crowds have dwindled due to the late hour and the appetizer table has been depleted, that Ellie comes face to face with the shocking amount of artwork she’s sold. Nearly every piece in the room has a red dot next to the price tag, an indication of her success. Dina, flitting about and talking to the last of the attendees, looks absolutely ecstatic. Ellie can’t blame her— the success of the exhibition does fantastic for the gallery itself. 

Ellie sticks around to help the caterers clean up, while Dina collects the checks from the buyers before sending them off with a certificate of ownership, signed by both Dina and Ellie, the unstoppable curator and artist duo. 

“You should be pleased.” Ellie nearly jumps out of her suit.  _ I thought I was the last one here?  _ Ellie thinks as she turns around. Of course it’s Abby. 

Dina has long since disappeared back into her office to do some more work before closing, and the caterers and bartender have left as well. It leaves only Ellie and the temptingly beautiful art collector alone in Ellie’s wing of the gallery. 

“So many valuable pieces of work were sold. I imagine your pockets will be quite padded after this night,” Abby remarks, walking slowly around the gallery. She undoes the front button of her grey blazer, a motion that doesn’t go unnoticed by Ellie. 

“I’m not in it for the money,” Ellie says, crossing her arms. Abby looks at her sharply. 

“I never said you were, but in this day and age, it’s always a little nice to have some lying around, don’t you think?” Abby jests. 

“Says the one who spends thousands on artwork.” 

Abby laughs, deep and rich. “How hypocritical, coming from an artist.” 

“I’ve been known to be a hypocrite every now and then,” Ellie replies. 

It goes silent, and Abby’s attention, of course, drifts to  _ Revelabo.  _ As does Ellie’s. 

“I have a distinct reputation for visiting art galleries once, and only once,” Abby begins, a slight head tilt to the side. “If a gallery doesn’t have what I’m searching for, then the point ceases to exist.” 

“You’ve seen me twice,” Ellie comments, and Abby hums. 

“You’re unlike anything I’ve ever seen, Ellie Williams,” Abby says, her voice low. She comes closer, her shoulder brushing against Ellie’s back, and Ellie catches a whiff of the cedar and cinnamon cologne that wafts off Abby. The tall woman leans in, her breath warm on Ellie’s ear, “Is there nothing I can do that will convince you to sell me your artwork?” 

Ellie swallows, feeling so  _ tempted _ to simply lean back into the muscular arms of Abby Anderson, but she restrains. 

“Not for sale.” Ellie is firm and resistant. She can feel Abby turning around behind her— her back pressing to Abby’s front, and a leather-gloved hand snaking around the front of her blazer. Somehow, Ellie doesn’t mind the touch. Might be because she feels ridiculously attracted to this woman. Maybe. 

“How unfortunate, one would think,” Abby whispers, her hand sneaking inside Ellie’s jacket, slipping past between the gaps of her buttons to touch skin. Ellie inhales at the warmth of the glove. “But fortunately for me, I have a masterpiece in the palm of my hand.”

Ellie sighs. This might as well happen. Her heart is already hammering in her chest, and there’s no point in pretending that she isn’t drawn to Abby. Her anxiety kicks up at the thought of somebody seeing, of somebody walking in, of somebody looking at the cameras that are stationed in every corner of the wing. 

Fuck, it turns her on. 

“I realized that it wasn’t the artwork that drew me here,” Abby says, her voice a low alto that soothes Ellie’s ears. Abby’s hand feels like fire on her stomach. “It was the gorgeous artist, so fiery, so silver-tongued.” 

Ellie can’t help the groan that slips past her lips, and she can almost feel Abby’s smirk on her neck. “What are you going to do about it?” 

Abby’s hand withdraws from her shirt and Ellie almost whines in protest, if it weren’t for said hand traveling lower, to the buckle of Ellie’s pants. In a single blink, the buckle is undone followed by the button, and Abby slides her hand in while crooning, “This is what I’m going to do, Ellie Williams.” 

And as Abby places her palm against Ellie’s heat, the artist moans, the noise echoing.

  
  



	2. part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ellie experiences her own exhibition in a way she's never seen before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uhhhh,,,,, enjoy heathens.

“Fuck,” Ellie moans, low and deep in her chest. Abby chuckles in Ellie’s ear, her other hand brushing around Ellie’s front before wrapping around her tie to  _ yank _ Ellie back, keeping her flush to Abby’s front. 

The pressure from the tie on Ellie’s throat is sinfully delightful, and Ellie realizes with shock that she has never felt this way with anyone in her life. Not Cat, not Dina,  _ no one.  _

Abby’s hand is insistent on Ellie’s crotch, placing a constant pressure just enough to keep Ellie on her toes. Ellie wants  _ more,  _ and it’s a realization that comes with a low moan because at any moment, somebody could see. Somebody could see Abby with her hand down Ellie’s pants and whispering the filthiest things into her ear. 

Dina could just happen to walk in. The security guards could just happen to check the cameras at this very second. 

Ellie reaches her hand backward onto Abby’s hip, gripping the fabric of Abby’s slacks to pull her closer. Abby seems pleased, growling low into Ellie’s ear. 

“You look so beautiful,” Abby whispers, her words dripping with gold that floods Ellie with warmth like a shot of adrenaline. “So fucking pretty, blushing as I fuck you in front of your artwork.” 

Ellie hadn’t even realized that Abby had subtly twisted them to face _Revelabo._ Ellie forces her eyes to focus on the massive piece of art, but her mind zeros in on the feeling of Abby’s gloved fingers slipping past her panty line. She would feel embarrassed at the way her underwear clings to her cunt, but Ellie’s far past the line of shame. She’s far gone over the deep end, Abby dragging her deep, deep, deep.   
Ellie exhales as Abby’s fingers slip over her core, the wetness aiding the leather to slide with ease. Ellie’s felt fingers, but the soft yet rough sensation of the leather sends electricity up Ellie’s spine. 

Abby’s grip on her tie becomes tighter, and Ellie is tempted to jerk away, simply to see what Abby’s reaction would be. Abby, the art collector with a devious streak, it seems. Ellie turns her head, and finds herself breathless when she sees Abby’s focused and heady gaze locked on her. 

“Tell me if you need to stop,” Abby whispers, and Ellie whimpers her consent. A finger slips in, and Ellie nearly buckles from the pressure in her stomach, if it weren’t for Abby’s pure strength holding her upright. The seam of Abby’s glove rubs against Ellie’s clit with every thrust, and Ellie sees sparks in her eyes. 

The grip on her tie disappears, but Ellie has little time to miss it, as Abby’s hand flies to her jaw, gripping with a softness that elicits a small moan from the artist. She’s so wound up, only from teasin and Abby’s words. She hates it. Does she?

Abby jerks Ellie’s head, forcing her to look at her art. “Look at you, such a good girl for me. I wonder what your art would think of you, being fucked in the gallery?” 

It’s clear Abby’s done this before. Does she do this with every artist who refuses her? The thought crosses Ellie’s mind, but it’s erased the moment Abby’s thumb presses against her clit. Deep in her nethers, a coil twists tighter and tighter with every thrust of Abby’s finger. 

But it’s not enough, she realizes, staring at the moth on the wall. 

“More,” Ellie whispers, her voice barely heard. Abby’s lips ghost behind her ear. 

“Beg for it, then.” 

And by god, does Ellie beg. 

“ _ Please _ , please give me more, I’ll be such a good girl,” Ellie whimpers, craving it so desperately. Abby has her wrapped around her finger, and Abby  _ knows _ it. 

“How bad do you want it?” Abby croons. Slowly, her hand on Ellie’s face spreads, before she smoothes a finger over Ellie’s lips. “Let me hear it from those pretty lips of yours, angel.” 

“I need it,” Ellie says, and unthinkingly, she opens her mouth further, Abby’s finger slipping in. She closes her lips around Abby’s finger, and she feels a low groan rumble from Abby’s throat. Her height is menacing— more than half a foot taller than her— and Ellie feels so small in Abby’s arms. 

It’s enough for Abby to slip another long finger into Ellie’s cunt, setting a slow pace that makes Ellie go mad. But as Ellie continues to suck on Abby’s finger, tasting the fabric of the glove, Abby raises the tempo. All thought of wrinkling her shirt or jacket is thrown out the window; Ellie wants Abby to fuck her into oblivion right in front of  _ Revelabo.  _

The artwork doesn’t stare at her judgingly. It stares at her with a charcoal smudged gaze that screams  _ I know what you’ve done.  _ Everything seems to warp in Ellie’s eyes as she is brought closer and closer to the edge. Abby adds another finger with no warning, and Ellie feels she’s being ripped apart with pleasure as her cunt flexes and squeezes around the fingers. Abby’s thumb is insistent on her clit, switching between a fast pace and slow, tantalizing circles that make Ellie’s legs quiver. 

She can barely stand at this point, and Abby isn’t even sweating as she holds Ellie up. She can vaguely feel spit dribbling from the corner of her mouth as her head loses track of what to focus on— Abby’s filthy words in her ears, Abby’s fingers in her cunt, Abby’s fingers in her mouth, everything in her brain screams  _ Abby, Abby, Abby,  _ until Ellie can think of nothing else at all. 

“Fuck,” Ellie whispers, her fingers curling around Abby’s arm to ground herself. She feels as though her mind may fly into space if she doesn’t hold onto Abby. Hold onto  _ anything _ , really. 

“I love hearing those words from your mouth,” Abby says, her voice strained. “I love hearing you moan as I fuck you in your exhibition, in front of all your art. What would the new owners say if they knew their precious art was exposed to such filthy indecency?” 

A bolt of shame courses through Ellie, but it doesn’t last long, as another spindle of pleasure takes over. She’s so close. She can feel the tingles in the tips of her fingers. 

“C’mon, baby girl, you’re almost there,” Abby says, her hand drifting down to Ellie’s neck. “Don’t make me force it out of you.” Her fingers press into Ellie’s neck enough for Ellie to feel so controlled, so sorely dominated that her legs will shake for days after. “Come for me.” 

The command comes so easily from Abby’s lips that Ellie’s body recognizes within a millisecond, and gives in. A carnal wave of pleasure rushes through Ellie, starting from her feet all the way to her brain, frying her alive in the feeling of relief. Ellie wonders what Abby’s thinking as she nearly falls slack in Abby’s arms. 

_ She’s so beautiful,  _ Ellie imagines Abby thinking. Ellie whimpers, her legs seizing up as Abby withdraws her fingers so, so gently. 

“Gorgeous,” Abby says, and Ellie preens under the attention, as best she can when she’s still stuck in the muddled haze of an orgasm. Ellie’s being moved— vaguely, she feels it, but her attention is so scattered she doesn’t realize it until her back is no longer resting on Abby, but on a wall. 

Abby looks at her as critically as sif Ellie were a piece of artwork hung on the wall. Ellie feels so exposed— her pants shoved down and her panties soaked with slickness. Her shirt is beyond rumpled, and her jacket will definitely need a trip to the dry cleaners after this. 

A finger reaches out to brush away some hair that’s stuck itself with sweat to Ellie’s face, and the softness of the touch jars Ellie into reality. 

Abby raises her left hand to her mouth, running her tongue over her three fingers that were inside Ellie only moments ago. There’s a satisfied look on her face that makes Ellie feel so proud of herself for pleasing the art collector. 

“You taste better than anything I’ve ever dined on,” Abby says quietly, before taking a step back. In any other circumstance, Ellie would follow, but her legs might give out. “I’ve been to several countries, dined on thousands of cuisines, but  _ you… _ ” Abby trails off with a chuckle. “My baby girl, you’re superior.” 

Ellie can’t help but let out a breathless laugh, her head resting against the cool stone of the wall. Her legs are still shaking, and she does her best to hide it, to not let Abby know how fucking  _ wrecked _ she feels. 

But her attention focuses on Abby once more as the taller woman begins tugging off her gloves, finger by finger, until they’re both off. Ellie doesn’t know how hands can be so attractive, but she can’t take her eyes off Abby’s slender fingers and strong palms. There’s the subtle ridges of veins that disappear under the turtleneck, and Ellie wants so badly to trace those veins with her tongue, to see where they lead. 

Abby tucks her gloves into the back pocket of her tight pants, and Ellie’s mind trails off on the thought of seeing those legs, seeing the power they hold if they were able to hold Ellie up so easily. The corner of Abby’s mouth turns up in a smirk— she knows her influence over Ellie is as potent as a glass of Bacardi. Neat, not on the rocks. 

“So you’re just going to fuck me and go?” Ellie can’t help it. The filter in her mind is all but fucked out. 

“No, actually,” Abby says. She takes off her glasses and slides them inside a pocket on the seam of her jacket. Then, she pulls it off, and Ellie’s eyes glue to the tight-hugging fabric of Abby’s turtleneck. Her fingers itch to take it off. Abby places her jacket on a nearby bench, before turning and pushing up the sleeves. “I’m far from done with you, angel.” 

Ellie’s heart, if it ever stopped. Picks up again, hammering in her chest. Abby steps toward her, slow and calculated. The veins on her arms pop in the lighting, and her dark eyes are blown with pure lust. 

“Tell me,” Abby begins, her arms raising until her palms are on either side of Ellie’s head, caging her in. Abby leans in close, her breath ghosting over Ellie’s lips. She’s so close— Ellie could just lean forward and kiss her. “Has anyone ever cared to properly dine on you?” 

The small realization that Abby hasn’t even  _ kissed _ Ellie leaves her  _ angry _ , somehow. 

“I don’t think you can say that when you haven’t kissed me yet, Abby,” Ellie whispers, her gaze dipping down to Abby’s lips, then back to her brown eyes. Ellie shifts her head, leaning forward until they’re barely centimeters apart, her heart pounding. “Put your money where your mouth is, Anderson.” 

Abby takes another step closer. Their closeness allows Ellie to feel the heaviness of Abby’s breathing, the strength of her wide back. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Williams. My pockets run far deeper than anything you’ve ever known.” 

“Prove it.” 

Abby snarls, a sound so primal that it rattles Ellie to her core. One of Abby’s arms moves to hook around Elie’s back and pull her forward. Ellie’s arms wind around Abby’s neck as their lips meet in the middle. The lingering traces of champagne and hard alcohol lingers on Abby’s lips, giving way to a delicious burn that threatens to melt Ellie whole. 

Abby rocks Ellie forward, then slams her into the wall. Air rushes out of Ellie’s lungs, but it seems pointless when she’d rather be kissing Abby than breathing. Ellie scratches her fingers in Abby’s hair, prompting a low groan from Abby to reverberate against her mouth. Ellie drinks it in, snapping her hips against Abby’s in effort to get the larger woman riled up. If Ellie can push her buttons just enough…

“You’re so—  _ hmfh. _ ” Abby’s attempts to speak are silenced by Ellie’s raging fervor for more. Abby’s hand drifts down to Ellie’s ass, her wide palm cupping the muscle easily. She squeezes, and it’s Ellie’s turn to be distracted. Abby’s lips are swollen. “You’re so fucking sexy,  _ fuck.”  _

The hand on Ellie’s ass flies to her shirt, deftly undoing buttons. Abby slides her hand across Ellie’s stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps. In turn, Ellie grips at the bottom of Abby’s turtleneck and yanks it out from her pants. 

Abby pulls away, taking over as she reaches down and pulls off the turtleneck. Ellie is left slack-jawed as she sees glorious abs, toned and tight, rippling as Abby stretches and tosses the turtleneck to the side. A smirk drifts to Abby’s face. “Like what you see, baby girl?” 

Immediately, Ellie bites back, “Fuck you.” 

Abby’s hand grip Ellie’s wrists, pressing them above her with a dangerous glint in her eyes. Ellie can’t help that her eyes look down the sports bra that presses Abby’s breasts tight to her chest, and further down to the subtle v of her hips. 

“Be a good girl and stay still for me,” Abby says, keeping one hand to lock Ellie’s wrists, and her other pulling loose Ellie’s tie. 

Ellie can’t find it in her to argue as Abby kisses her, then her lips begin a trail down the column of her neck. Her cunt is burning and aching with need, and as Abby goes lower and lower with her lips, the need becomes greater. Soft kisses dust across her sternum, down to her navel, and Ellie whimpers at the gentleness in which Abby touches her. The roughness from before has all but seemingly disappeared. Abby’s hands leave to pull her pants down, and Ellie shifts her hips forward to assist. 

At long last, Abby slides down Ellie’s soaked underwear, and she looks as though she’s found buried gold. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Ellie,” Abby says with a surprising amount of tenderness. She leans her head forward, and presses a kiss to the soaked folds. Ellie whines, a hand pressing to the wall for stabilization and the other resting on Abby’s head, smoothing the fly-away hairs. 

Finally, Abby’s tongue licks slowly through the pink folds, and Ellie has to bite down on her lip to keep from moaning loud enough for the entire gallery to hear. Abby’s forearm presses down on Ellie’s hips to keep them from jerking erratically. 

“God,  _ fuck,  _ keep going.” Ellie’s already close. She hates how just kissing brings her to the edge. Abby takes satisfaction in that fact, grinning against Ellie’s cunt. The wetness smears on her cheeks as she licks up and down, alternating between pressure on her clit and dipping into Ellie’s warmth. 

Abby licks with reckless abandon, as if she found an oasis in the middle of the Sahara. Abby could be leading Ellie into the depths of hell with how sinfully her tongue moves through Ellie’s folds, and Ellie couldn’t care less. 

Ellie grips onto Abby’s braid by instinct. Abby locks eyes with her, and Ellie can’t hold back the helpless noise that escapes through her mouth as Abby presses her tongue flat against Ellie’s clit in response. Tingles bloom, and Ellie jerks her body forward when Abby uses her fingers to spread her folds wide. 

“Baby, you taste so good,” Abby whispers, and Ellie moans. 

“I’m close,” Ellie says, almost buckling over from the pressure that feels so damn tight in her core. Abby is licking skillfully up and down, and Ellie might collapse if she keeps going. But, the chase for a second orgasm is a need far greater, and Ellie doesn’t ever want Abby to stop. 

Abby pulls away to breathe for a brief second, and Ellie is astounded by the wetness smeared across her cheeks, nearly dripping down her chin. Abby licks her lips with a grin, peering up at Ellie, before diving in once more. 

She cants her hips into Abby’s mouth, grinding and creating a rhythm that sends barbs of pleasure. There’s desperation in every movement Ellie makes, chasing the orgasm that she can feel sparking in core. All she needs is to strike it with some flint and steel and set it alight. Ellie wants to  _ burn _ and drag Abby down with her. 

God, Ellie could burn down this whole gallery and she wouldn’t care because it feels so fucking good. 

“C’mon, baby,” Abby says against her pussy, the vibrations causing Ellie to gasp and moan quietly. “I know you’re almost there, I can feel it, you’re so fucking wet.” 

Every word that comes out of Abby’s mouth flies right into Ellie’s ears. Ellie’s grip on Abby’s hair becomes tighter as she moans louder than before. It’s so close,  _ she’s _ so close. In the blink of an eye, Abby slides two digits into Ellie’s cunt, and it’s all she needs to be shoved over the edge and into the warm waters. 

It hits her blindingly, and Ellie moans so loud that Abby’s hand shoots up to cover her mouth, muffling the noise. Abby pulls away, standing up and pressing her body to Ellie’s. It’s too much— Abby’s fingers playing with her clit, the heat of her body against her own, Abby’s words of praise whispered into her ear. 

Black dots sparkle her vision, and Ellie nearly passes out from the strength of her orgasm. Abby’s the only thing keeping her from hitting the floor, something she’s grateful for. 

“All good?” Abby whispers, and Ellie nods weakly. Abby pulls her hand away from Ellie’s mouth, only to kiss her deeply. Faintly, Ellie can taste the tang of her own cum on Abby’s lips and tongue, and it’s addicting— she understands why Abby was so devoted to eating her out like she was worshipping a god at an altar. 

And though it started out as just fucking, Ellie can’t help but think there’s something more behind Abby’s sweetly laced words. 

“Don’t tell me you only fucked me to get your hands on  _ Revelabo, _ ” Ellie whispers against Abby’s lips. The taller woman pulls back and looks properly  _ shocked _ . 

“Ellie Williams, how dare you assume me to be an asshole,” Abby says, licking her fingers. “I fucked you because I like you.” 

Once again, Ellie would be on the floor if it weren’t for Abby. 

“Oh— I—” 

“Hush, baby girl, I put you through a lot,” Abby says, her tone now matter-of-factly. She leans down and pulls Ellie’s pants back up. There’s a mischievous glint in her eye. “If you’d like, we can continue the afterparty at my place. I’ve got a bottle of chardonnay with our names on it.” 

The thought of traipsing with Abby on a bed is too tempting to turn down. Ellie stuffs her shirt into her pants. “Count me in. I’ll return the favor.” 

Abby catches her wrist. “Oh, darling, I don’t think you’ve quite learned that you have to work for it.” 

Ellie’s eyes widen, and Abby laughs well into the night. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> go take a cold shower, marie.


	3. part three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> at an art exhibition, ellie reflects on the events that lead her here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end to this quick and short series. thank you all so much for reading. and as always, unbeta'd. enjoy, my gremlins.

Ellie can’t stop looking at a particular spot on the far wall of the art gallery, and it’s for good reason. 

She knows she should be socializing with the prospective clients of her art exhibition, but her attention span is that of a goldfish right now. 

But, thankfully, she swerves being hit in the head by Dina’s hand in time. 

“Watch who you’re slapping,” Ellie says, turning to grab a chocolate covered strawberry. She pops it into her mouth, and then tosses the stem into the trash. 

“You should be—” 

“Talking to clients, I know, Dina,” Ellie replies, rolling her eyes. “C’mon, almost half of them are sold, we’re doing great! Chill out, D.” 

Dina sighs, putting a hand on her hip. “We can always strive for better, Ellie.”

Sounds like Dina, always aiming to get that perfect score. This is her gallery, for fuck’s sake. Dina makes a percentage of the profit of what Ellie sells. Ellie’s gaze drifts to the entrance of the exhibition. Where is Abby? Fashionably late, likely. She’s like that. 

Dina’s fingers snap in front of Ellie’s face, and Ellie blinks. Did she zone out again?

“Waiting for someone?” Dina teases, wiggling her brows. Ellie immediately slugs Dina on the shoulder. Screw manners, Dina deserved that. Dina groans, rubbing her shoulder. “Is your elusive girlfriend coming or not?” 

“Did someone say girlfriend?” Jesse wanders over, reaching in front of Ellie to fork a marshmallow to dip into the crockpot filled with warm chocolate. Jesse leans on the table. “Are we talking about mine or Ellie’s?” 

“You have a girlfriend?” Dina looks puzzled, but waves it off. “Whatever. Irrelevant. Ellie, is yours coming? Is that why you keep looking at the door?” 

“Oh, her mysterious lover is coming,” Jesse says through a mouthful of chocolate marshmallow. Dina’s face cringes. 

“Chew your food, you overgrown buffoon,” Dina says, flicking his chest. She looks back to Ellie. “Stop deflecting.” 

“I haven’t even said anything in five minutes,” Ellie retorts, her brow raising. How can they even say that when she hasn’t been able to get a word in? Ellie swears, whenever Dina and Jesse are put in a room together, all they do is bicker and talk about completely pointless things. Like how Ellie’s never introduced them to her girlfriend. 

Their conversation seems to fade into nothingness as Ellie’s eyes wander. This exhibition is smaller than previous ones, but it doesn’t mean it’s any less important. Some bigger investors have come, and Ellie spent a long time schmoozing them earlier. Or, schmoozing to the best of her ability. She’s never been great at doing that, unlike someone else she knows. 

So, though she’s secured money for personal commissions for some of those investors, the other attendees have taken their time in perusing the art. Ellie doesn’t mind, but the longer some people look, the more judged she feels. It’s an odd emotion she’s never been quite able to get over, unfortunately. No amount of art exhibitions can ever make her feel like she’s not being judged at all times for the art she’s made. 

She sighs, cracking her neck to the side. 

Ellie looks at the entrance, and decides that might’ve been the best idea of her life. 

Walking in with the grace of a goddess is Abby Anderson. There’s a smile on her face, and Ellie’s gaze dips low, following the deep v-line of Abby’s dark sacramento green dress. Instinctively, Ellie licks her lips, shifting her stance to watch Abby walk into the exhibition.It’s funny how every time Ellie sees Abby, she’s left breathless. 

“Oh my god,” Dina whispers, and Ellie feels a surge of pride in her chest. That’s  _ her _ girlfriend. Dina looks between Ellie and Abby, before it clicks in her eyes. “Wait,  _ that’s _ your girlfriend?” 

“Holy shit!” Jesse says, slapping Ellie on the shoulder. 

Ellie doesn’t care about the attention on her— all she can look at is Abby. And then, like a miracle, Abby looks at her. Abby raises her hand to wave, and all Ellie can focus on is the vein popping from Abby’s forearm and the way Abby’s arms are so sculpted. The strings of the dress are held up by terrifyingly powerful shoulders, and the thigh that peeks through the leg slit of the floor length dress is toned beyond measure. 

Abby in suits is extremely attractive, but on the rare occasion that Abby dons a dress, Ellie is left drooling. 

“Darling,” Abby says as she swipes a flute of champagne from the table. She takes a sip of it, head tilting back, and Ellie realizes that she’s wearing  _ heels.  _ Abby was already an amazonian goddess before, standing at six feet tall, but now, she’s somewhere between six foot four and six foot five, leaving Ellie an entire foot smaller than her girlfriend. 

_ God save me now,  _ Ellie thinks. She won’t last long when Abby is dressed like this. 

Speaking of which—

Abby grabs Ellie’s chin, tilting her head up to kiss her boldly in front of everyone. Her hold is gentle, and Ellie puts her hand on Abby’s back—  _ oh, _ it’s a low backline dress— and presses close. 

When they pull apart, Dina and Jesse are staring at them like they’ve just explained physics. A heavy blush comes over Ellie’s face as Abby’s palm runs over the front of Ellie’s sharp blue jacket. 

“Love, you look beautiful in this jacket,” Abby says, picking off a piece of invisible lint from Ellie’s shoulder. “I did choose it, after all.” 

“You would rather have me in nothing,” Ellie whispers. Dina chokes on air, and Jesse simply sighs. Abby delights in their reactions, as her hand runs down Ellie’s back posessively. 

“Don’t be so crass in front of you friends,” Abby chastises, but there’s a smirk on her face that would suggest otherwise. She turns to look down at Dina and Jesse, and extends her hand out. “Abby Anderson, Ellie’s girlfriend.” 

Jesse shakes Abby’s hand, and then awkwardly excuses himself. He looks like he’s about to crawl in a hole, so Ellie leaves him be. 

When Dina sticks her hand out, Abby swoops in and takes it, raising it to her lips and giving a chaste kiss. Ordinarily, Ellie would feel a raging jealousy, but she knows that Abby has eyes for no one but her. This suave and charming woman with legs to die for is simply like that. It was how Ellie was swept off her feet in the first place. 

She glances to the spot on the wall, and blushes. Everytime she looks in that direction, she’s reminded of what happened months ago. 

“I like her,” Dina says, elbowing Ellie. Then, she announces, “I’m going to check on the bartender.” 

Dina disappears, leaving Ellie and Abby alone. This is the time where Ellie truly appreciates the time and effort that Abby put into her outfit. The silver necklace hanging low between Abby’s breasts beckons Ellie closer, and the various bracelets around her wrists sparkle in the light. There’s a light layer of makeup— eyeliner, some blush, and nude lipstick— but Ellie loves it anyway. 

“You look beautiful, Abby,” Ellie says, leaning closer to her gorgeous amazon of a girlfriend. Abby laughs, the sound nothing short of delightful to Ellie’s ears. Ellie almost reaches out to touch Abby’s straightened, slicked back hair, but refrains. She knows how long Abby takes to get ready. 

“Thank you, darling. You look quite dashing in your suit,” Abby says, returning the compliment with ease. She raises her glass slightly. “Cheers to another successful art exhibition, baby girl.” 

Ellie flushes under the praise. It always seems to be like that when it comes to Abby. Her words have always had that effect on Ellie, no matter the circumstance. 

“Thank you for coming, Abby,” Ellie says. 

“I would’ve flown across the world to see you shine,” Abby says. She laces their fingers together, spinning Ellie until the smaller redhead is flush against her chest. Abby leans her head down, crooning into Ellie’s ear, “Everyone here is looking at you.” 

It hits Ellie that this is the first time she’s been seen with an amorous partner. Strangely, she doesn’t mind. Let the entire world see that Abby Anderson is her girlfriend. Let everyone know that this beautiful, strong, and independent woman is Ellie’s girlfriend. 

“How are Lev and Yara?” Ellie asks, resting her head on Abby’s chest as they look out to the attendees of the art exhibition together. 

“Yara is babysitting him tonight, don’t worry, darling,” Abby says, referring to her adopted children. “They would’ve attended tonight if they could’ve, but due to your art, I made them stay home.” 

Ellie glances sidewardly at a piece of art hanging on a nearby post. It’s a charcoal drawing, depicting a woman, naked, wielding a sword. Ellie wonders who her muse was, before she laughs. 

“I love you,” Ellie whispers quietly. She can just feel Abby’s grin, bright and impossibly bold. 

“I love you too, baby,” Abby says. She spins Ellie around again, and let’s go. Ellie looks Abby up and down for the third time tonight, and Ellie may or may not be thinking about how she’ll rip the dress off of Abby later. Or, she just might take her time in ravishing Abby. 

It’s a thought that Abby must understand just by the look on Ellie’s face. She points at her with a devious gaze. “Careful, darling Ellie, or else we’ll have a repeat of the second time we met.” 

The memories come crashing into Ellie’s mind, and her lip curls. “I’m counting on it, Anderson.” 

Abby’s eyebrow crooks upward. “Oh, are you? How unfortunate it is that I have to go convince some of your attendees to buy your paintings.” 

“Or you might pick their pockets and do it yourself,” Ellie retorts. 

Abby grins, downing the rest of her champagne. She places the glass in Ellie’s hand, running her fingers down Ellie’s forearm briefly. “I do whatever it takes for my good girl.” 

Ellie watches as Abby turns around and walks away, the floor length dress sweeping as if it were blessed by the winds. It’s a wonder how Ellie didn’t burn in the beautiful inferno of Abby Anderson, but she’s glad she’s resistant. 

With a smile on her face, Ellie turns and walks away. 

Later that night, when the art gallery is closed and Ellie is left to pack up the remains, she finds herself standing in front of  _ Revelabo.  _

“It’s still as gorgeous as the first time I saw it,” Abby comments, the click of her heels accentuating her steps and making her calves ever so prominent. Abby’s fingers drift to Ellie’s shoulder. “Are you okay, my love?” 

“Just tired, that’s all,” Ellie replies, looking at her girlfriend lovingly for a few seconds. Abby traces the knuckle of her finger on Ellie’s cheek, before leaning over to press an impossibly soft kiss to Elli’s lips. When Abby pulls away, Ellie sees the dark gold flecks in her eyes. She whispers, “I want you to have it.” 

“Have what?” Abby tilts her head to the side. 

“ _ Revelabo, _ ” Ellie says, and Abby gasps. Abby shoves Ellie, which turns out to send Ellie flying because, let's face it, Abby is about as strong as an ox. 

“You’re kidding.” 

“I’m not.” Ellie shakes her head. “That spot on your wall at home has been empty. It needs something there, and  _ Revelabo _ needs a good home.” 

Abby gapes, then she’s laughing. “You’re an asshole, Ellie Williams. But I love you.” 

“I know you do. That’s why I’m trusting you with a part of my soul,” Ellie says, grabbing Abby’s hand and kissing her knuckles. “I want you to take this artwork home, and boast to everyone that you got Ellie Williams to give you her untouchable art.” 

Abby’s smiling, wholeheartedly. She tilts her head down, kissing Ellie breathless. It’s sweet and swirling with lust all in the same, and Ellie wouldn’t have it any other way. Abby Anderson is that perfect mixture of passion and tenderness that makes Ellie glad to be in love with her. 

“You keep going and you’ll get a repeat of last time,” Ellie mumbles against Abby’s lips, trailing her hand up the slit of Abby’s dress. The skin there is smooth and the muscles flex under Ellie’s palm. 

“The art has seen it all, hasn’t it?” Abby asks quietly. “No point in protecting its innocence.” 

“You’re right.” Ellie pulls away, and pushes Abby towards the wall. “And I haven’t repaid the favor yet, have I?” 

Abby cracks a smile. “I don’t know what happened to you, but I like it.” 

Ellie is tugged forward by Abby’s hand gripping her tie, and Ellie falls deeper into the oblivion with Abby Anderson whispering love into her ear. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u to kyra aka femme abby aka a legend for envisioning thigh slit dress abby w me. i stan u.


End file.
